Rider on the Storm
by glittergoddess13
Summary: EVILDEAN!Dean, possessed by one of the most powerful of demonic reapers:a Horseman of the Apocalypse, goes on a killing rampage. Can Sam stop & save Dean? LIMPSAM! LimpDean! Bro Vs. Bro battles! DARKERSAM! EVILDEAN! DEMONDEAN!
1. Revelation

**Rider on the Storm**

Rolling storm clouds grumbled, threatening to bring a downpour upon the charred open husk of the Redeemer Church. The steady pound of Ezra Brennan's hammer worked on despite the approaching thunder booms. Ignoring the wind gust that blew part of his candles to an untimely death, he tried to continue his rebuilding of the destroyed walls. The next steady wind gust, blew out more of his light source.

"Lord, it looks like you have seen fit to bring some rain to my work. Is this your way of telling me it is time to rest for the night?" Ezra chuckled. It had been at least a year since he began his work rebuilding this church and left the priesthood- but saying he left was too polite. More aptly, the church removed him after his usual talks with God became too dark. "Not that I am complaining. I can handle not having electric, for you have given me candles to light my way. I can handle not having power tool, for I know Jesus was but a humble carpenter….But I did hope to finish this side wall tonight. You have never let my supply get this low before, but I won't argue with your plans. You do work in mysterious ways. I just hope those ways bring me some more wood to finish rebuilding your earthly home." He sighed, looking through holes of skeleton wooden frame structures he had recently erected in the burned out walls. The only thing that remained of the original church was the back wall, the sanctuary, and altar. So far, he only finished building a baptismal pool near the altar, proclaiming it to be the first task God has set upon him. He resigned himself that tonight's toil was over and hoped tomorrow brought him more supplies and better weather.

Since leaving his former parish, the church officially noted he was on "administrative leave" or on "sabbatical". Those terms were the polite way to tell him to hit the bricks because he was too strange to represent the church. Most found his odd ways alarming at best. His pallid skin, fanatical eyes, gaunt structure, and mad scientist hair made him sublimely creepy. The hallow sunken high check bone gave him that slightly sinister, Christopher Walken-like appearance. He always counted his weirdness of manners and appearance as a blessing. Teasing in his youth had brought him to seek refuge once in abandoned church. As he hid from the taunting bullies, he heard his first message from God. If he had not been running from bullies, he might have missed his life calling. Now, many years later he was still thankful to serve, even if most of world assumed him crazy. To him conversing with God was as natural as talking to your best friend or family.

Staring off into the rolling clouds, Ezra gathered his tools before rain could ruin his efforts. Readying himself for rest in connecting structure behind the church, he relaxed and chuckled again. "If you wanted me to stop, you didn't need to send such a serious storm. I always listen to you… I am convinced you have a cosmic sense of humor."

While he struck up a playful, one-sided conversation with his God, he ambled happily in the gutted church until a shock seemed to strike upon his spine. His back arched in alarm. "Thank you, kind Lord." His focus drew up into the sky and the flashing lightening within the rolling black storm clouds, which moved like tentacles extending down from the sky. The alert in his spine sent warning, for this was not an earthly or heavenly created storm.

"Be gone vile demon and take your brethren with you. You shall not pass the threshold of this church for it is prophesied by God to be the last in the darkest hour….Matthew 16:18, "Upon this rock I will build my Church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it."

Hollow footsteps came out of the darkness of the funneling clouds. Hundreds of Demon voices swirled in the mist. As the footsteps drew near the hallowed and ravaged property of the former church, the onyx clouds burst with scarlet electric and crackled from the voices.

"NO…it can't be… Oh, heavenly father… guide me in this hour of need. For Satan has brought forth a Reaping Rider from the seal. The trumpet has not sounded… please guide my path to undo what has been done."

"Prayer will not save this place. For it is destined for destruction."

Ezra did not react in fear, trusting that God would guide his way. "Be gone. You cannot be here for it is not time. I will call as many lambs unto me before your day upon this earth is decided by our Lord."

"I have been released. My time is now."

"You have gathered demons this night to destroy the seeds that God had set forth to create. You cannot pass, you shall not pass. In this, my God, stands firm. Your power cannot touch here."

From the epicenter of the demon cloud, a form emerged of a human shell inhabited by a power beyond what the earth had even seen. "You know what I am! I am one of four."

"I know what you are. This is not your time. You must return to the Seal."

"No." Dark swirls whirled in his eyes and flashes of blood red twinged his eyes, similar to the storm around him. I have my army now and we will fulfill the destruction of this church this night." The demon raised the arms of his host and the clouds swirled like a battering ram towards the unfinished house of worship. As the barreling flashes of flaring demon spurs crossed into the holy confines of ground, they rebounded as if an unseen force shielded them from entrance. The rippling whirlpools of darkness rescinded into the heaven, abandoning the one that called them to this battle.

"I told you rider, this is not yet your hour. Your demon kindred have left you. You cannot cross. Return to your hold until the time is ready. You have no power to bring about the end of time."

"The Appoloin can cross any barrier."

"They have been hidden from your view. You have no power here."

"I know them and I will have them in my power. No other demon can match my power. With one touch, on whim, I can take peace from this earth. My time is now and I shall return." The demon's eyes swirled with more red, like the dark patterns of his eyes were flashing shoots of red electric. He smiled before he opened his mouth and a vermilion smoke burst poured forth from the orifice, leaving the current host to crash upon the ground. The former human fell dead as soon as the last string of smoke escaped the body.

"No……Oh Lord, the demons know the chosen to replace Appoloin. The Winchesters are in danger. Please guide me to them. I must reseal what has been broken."

**-Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0OOo-**

**A month later….**

The twisting gnarled branches intertwined, making a thick tree trunk to support the new tendrils of branches reaching for the sky. The unruly vegetation sprang from the earth in the far side of an unkempt yard in front of a shack of a house. Long ago poverty had left most houses in the neighborhood in a state of ill-repair and the recent foreclosures forced many families from the rundown structures. At one time this magnificent tree would have been a shining example of pride for the families that lived here. Now, it was a reminder of the growing darkness in the world. Still the ancient tree, surviving in times of diversity, had purpose in the world. Such a disfigured representation of nature provided a perfect haven for two Winchesters, waiting for battle. The two figures clung behind the massive growth in the dark, remaining unseen until it was time for them to be seen.

"I can't wait to roast this demonic son of…"

"I'm as eager as you are, but we don't know how it has caused so many deaths. Everywhere it's been has left every one dead in his wake."

"Thanks Mr. Exposition. I know all this. Whatever power he possesses won't do any good….We have your brilliant plan."

"We just need to get him close enough then…"

"We set this fu…."

"Don't get too cocky. "

"Come on Sam, loosen up. Since the gate opened, we have kicked some major demonic ass."

Sam would have laughed, but there was no more time for enjoying the anticipation of a hunt with his brother. His ever alert ears detected the echoing of a motorcycle progressing down the street. His hand clenched his brother's shoulder in a non-verbal warning of the momentary battle.

Turning to his brother, Dean flashed a smile and nodded, already aware of impending opponent. Giving a hand signal, he asked Sam to set the plan in action. Sam would attack from behind, while Dean took the possessed man by surprise in a frontal attack. Slowly they would maneuver their prey into the trap.

A mere nod confirmed the order and both armed themselves. Both were fully aware guns couldn't harm the demon, but they only needed to get him close enough to spring Sam's trap. Dean preferred the feeling of a gun in his hand to canteens of holy water.

Sam snaked pass the tree, keeping his body tight to the wild brush and overgrowths to get himself behind the demon carrier. Dean clung to his position until we was sure Sam was a safe distance away from their quarry.

The motorcycle stopped a few inches from Sam's location. A confident man kicked the stand and swung off the firecracker red finish of the Harley.

"HEY!" Sam sprang from the bushes several feet behind the figure. "AH! Winchesters…Sammy Winchester… and where is the other half…Come out, come out wherever you are. I know you are here."

"Right here…Just waiting for you to join our party." Dean rushed from his location, blocking the escape route from the front.

"How nice of you to wait for me…..I have been waiting for you."

"Oh good. And we brought you presents." Dean splashed the man with the flask and a slight sizzle rose from his form.

Sam did the same, maneuvering the man to the exact location. "It's over. You won't hurt anyone again."

The siblings used precise strikes to angle the demon's direction, pushing him to predetermined location. Sam tossed a massive splash of holy water from his container, sending the demon the last few feet.

The man chuckled and walked a few more inches towards Dean. He waited for the eldest Winchester to toss more holy water, but Dean smiled.

"Oh, so glib. You don't think you can win."

"Yeah…yeah I do." Dean dropped his water bottle and flicked the silver lighter to life.

"Fire, will not kill me."

"Not planning on burning you. Hell fire can do that once you go back, but…"

Sam completed his thought… "It will complete our trap for you."

Dean touched the ground with his flame and a liquid sprang to life. The flicker sparked and twisted around a complex pattern until the demon was surrounded by a Devil's Trap made of lighter fluid and fire.

"Oh… you are smarter than I expected. That could come in useful." There was no panic in the demons voice. " I am híppos purrós. Do you really think this is powerful enough to hold me!"

"Don't see you moving." Joining his brother's side, Sam started defiantly at the flames holding the demon inside.

"Sam, did he just say his name was hippo poop!"

"You dare mock me!"

"Don't be stupid… Of course I dare mock you."

"Dean, want to do the honors." Sam grinned. "I'm tired of the grandstanding."

"I'd be delighted." Dean pulled the well worn journal from his jacket pocket and turned to an all too familiar page. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…"

The creature laughed inside the fire ring. "Better hurry, your little trap won't last long."

"Long enough!" Sam spouted.

Dean continued his reading over the conversation of the two men. "Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica, in nomine et virtute Domini Nostri Jesu Christi, eradicare et effugare a Dei Ecclesia…"

"Go on, this is highly amusing. I'm not sure which of you I like best."

"ab animabus ad imaginem Dei conditis ac pretioso divini."

"Agni sanguine redemptis. Non ultra audeas, serpens callidissime, decipere humanum genus, Dei Ecclesiam persequi, ac Dei electos excutere et cribrare sicut triticum. The creature completed for the Winchesters. "Words… powerless words…wrong words. Finished now?"

Dean continued anyway. "Imperat tibi Deus altissimus, cui in magna tua superbia…."

Stepping from the still complete trap, the demon slammed a fist to Dean's abdomen, stopping his words and sending him several feet in the air. The older brother smashed hard against the tree that once provided them cover. Before Sam had time to react, the hell spawn swiped Sam's legs from under him. With lightening fast speed, the demon hovered next to his head. The demon wasted no time in cracking Sam's skull against the pavement. Sam's focus could see the red and black swirls like a demon thunderstorm rolling in the man's eyes in the glow of their useless trap.

"I only need one of you." The human husk opened its mouth wide and a swirl started to pour out, seeking refuge inside Sam's body.

The snapping of bone and flesh, echoed in the quiet. The smoke hissed back inside the host as Sam's eyes focused on the makeshift stake pushing out of the host's chest and his brother pressing the weapon in deeper. Not a single drop of blood spilled, but the demon's attention diverted to Dean.

"Get off my brother."

"Very well! The creature whipped up and yanked the tip that stuck out of his chest, pulling the long wooden spike through his torso. The hole it created quickly sealed. "You are the fighter…the warrior…that seems more appropriate."

"Appropriate for what, you bastard." Dean swung his fist into the torso.

The demon merely grabbed the man's swing, then used brute strength to push Dean against the tree trunk again. Slamming the eldest sibling into the wood a few times, a stream of blood poured at the base of Dean's head. Dean's mind swam as the demon released him, letting his body crash beneath the tree. Once again, the demon hovered near Dean's face. Ripping the gold amulet from Dean's neck before he held Dean's mouth open, the demon chuckled. "You won't be needing that anymore." The black storm smoke poured out and sprang to life with red crackling electric pulses. The smoke filled Dean's throat as if it closed off all air to him and he gasped. His throat gurgled and strangled as the funnel poured into his throat, filling his being with demonic presence.

_**Author's note: If you read the Enter the Sandman story, you will see the Appoloin word has returned here. It will be explained, finally. **_


	2. My Time Is Now

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Freckles and flecks of stars and fog swam about inside Sam head as he tried to shake away the damage of battle. Only his splitting head vacillated, an action of sheer will over the body's capabilities at the moment. Honestly, his entire being felt a bit mushy and uncoordinated. After a few bumps and blows to his heads in many other battles, it was a wonder that he wasn't use to that feeling. Nonetheless, Sam would never be use to getting injured. He shook his head again, fighting against the sluggishness keeping him from rejoining the fray.

The first glints of the world refocused in Sam's eyes. To his surprise, his eyes were dead even on the ground with his brother's amulet. The small pair of golden eyes seemed to stare into him, telling him something was wrong. With one single glimpse of the golden token, volumes of the danger screamed an alert into Sam. Yet, his panic was not for himself. In all the world, if there was one thing each Winchester could count on, it was the predictability that each brother loved each other more than they could ever love themselves.

The mere seconds it took for Sam to register the danger sent his body to alert and he bolted upright. The movements of his body so quick a cobra would have taken more time to strike an unsuspecting victim. To the common observer his moves would have appeared precise, but Sam felt the swimming of his own head. Still he pressed onward, pulling his body to rise upon buckling legs. However, his prompt response was not rewarded with hope. Instead, he watched as the former host of the demon collapsed to the pavement, while the crackling red-black darkness took over his brother. "DEAN!" Sam screamed. "NO!" He bolted in a mad dash, willing his body to move faster than the sound of his voice.

He slumped over Dean. His hands tried to grasp the hell-fire smoke from going further into his brother. Nevertheless, the vapors poured like grains of rock salt in his fingers-intangible as the smoke cloud should be. Sam's cement-smacked brain latched onto his memories of Latin and his voice took over when his physical attempt failed him. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica, in nomine et virtute Domini Nostri Jesu Christi….."

-x-xx-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The inflections of Latin crept into Dean's ears, but did very little to help him struggle against the decay of his consciousness. His fingers dug into the ground, scratching at the dirt and roots below him and raking his fingers with a few streaks of blood. His back bent in a strange horseshoe shape, arching his abdomen upwards to the sky. A strange gurgling and hacking rattled in this throat, his body's attempt to fight the invading presence. The smoke, although vaporous, felt like a lump of coal-hard and jagged- gouging inside his throat. Try as he might, he could only inhale the demonic presence, gagging as his mind and body wished to expel the foreign entity cramming its way inside of him. This could not be happening.

Whatever lies he told himself that this was a dream-this was not real- did little to stop the events. His own consciousness could already feel a crowding in his mind, unlike anything he ever imagined. He had assumed possessed people slept through most of what was happening, but now he knew the truth. The host simply went away, like they never existed. Some small spark of who he was tried to hold on, but the demon confined who the host was in some locked away, strange, alien, place. The host pushed further and further out of its own home into some darkness. A place that he could only describe as a void of nothing where you are nothing. He could feel the abyss pulling him to the emptiness as more of the onyx vapors flew in.

"DEAN!...hold on…eradicare et effugare a Dei Ecclesia, ab animabus ad imaginem Dei conditis ac pretioso divini Agni sanguine redemptis. Non ultra audeas, serpens callidissime, decipere humanum genus, Dei Ecclesiam …"

Dean vaguely heard Sam screaming for him. The sounds muffled like it filtered through a barrel of water. The voice as watery as his mind wanted to become.

"GOD! NO! DEAN!" Sam screamed. "Persequi, ac Dei electos excutere et cribrare sicut triticum. Imperat tibi Deus altissimus, cui in magna tua superbia te similem haberi adhuc præsumis; qui omnes homines vult salvos fieri et ad agnitionem veritaris venire. Imperat tibi Deus Pater; imperat tibi Deus Filius…"

"Sammy." Dean tried to scream as the smoke trailed fully into him, or at least he thought he screamed. He fought against the void and the presence, keeping some small glimmer of himself alive. "No... no...no.." Dean mouthed, thinking the words could not possibly escape and pass upon his lips.

"Dean? Hold...hold on... don't let him take over..." Sam begged. "Imperat tibi Deus Spiritus Sanctus. Imperat tibi majestas Christi, æternum Dei Verbum, caro factum, qui pro salute generis…"

Dean locked eyes on his brother. How strange he felt to be aware of his surroundings, but feeling so powerless at the same time. To his surprise, he was still seeing Sam and he was speaking to Sam. No matter how latent he was to the trespasser within, he held control. However, he didn't know how long he could avoid the ever present wanting nothingness. He had to try. Dean imagined his body pushing the demon out. While he realized he didn't or couldn't expel the thing inside him, it helped him to hold control for the moment.

"Sammy! Get it out of me! I can't control…keep him." He forced out.

"Yes you can… nostri tua invidia perditi, humiliavit semetipsum facfus hobediens usque ad mortem; qui Ecclesiam…" Sam's perfect Latin droned out like an automated voice system. The message was automatic, but the flavor to each word was far from robotic. A tremble played upon each syllable. The same tremble seemed to grumble inside his stomach as he barely kept the gag reflex under control. The idea of his own possession and now Dean's disgusted him more than any corpse they had seen.

"Sa…Samm…" Dean strangled out. "He's win….Stake…trap it…"

Sam shook his head no, but Dean's eyes begged him. How he hated that look- the beg look. The expression seldom flashed on Dean's face, but when it did, Sam had to obey. Sam lost many an argument from that single look. Now, he hated it more than ever. He had little recourse but to accept Dean's command, leaving his brother's side to get the piece of Palo Santo they had in their weapon's stash. He hated the thought of staking his brother with the demonic trapping holy wood, but he had not other ideas to attempt now. The murmurings of his brother slammed against his ears, sending guilt up Sam's spine.

"Sammy… go….Palo…" Dean managed to pressure out the words from his voice box, long after Sam left for the weapons stash. He knew what he asked of Sam would be hard. He knew he could never shove a stake inside of Sam's body. He knew he wasn't strong enough to trap Sam that way. Sam was always stronger. When the time came, Sam would do this for him. In any case, no pain from a Palo Santo stake could compare to what was happening within his mind. His body felt hot as if the demon had burned his presence in his tissue, branding a permanent claim to him. Dean had experience too many fires in his days, but no flame and no amount of smoke inhalation even compared. The end result was the same, the feeling of the hot cutting of his air supply. More aptly, he could compare the sensation that he had become an open flame and the demon was turning his earthly shell in some strange demonic hellfire.

Hitherto, he believed that was exactly what was happening: He was becoming the fires of hell from the inside out. This was the far from the truth of his condition. Only his fingers seemed to still obey his need to fight and struggle. The digits cracked and splintered open in the rooms of the twisted tree. The early signs and sounds of struggle had ceased and the rest of his body remained perfectly still. Slowly, he realized his lungs were moving normally, rising and falling without any effort. Then the trepidation seeped in. He wasn't breathing. The demon was breathing. The stifled breathlessness he felt was his own presence failing.

The conclusion of failure made his heart feel like a gaping wound, raw pain in his chest. Something evil teased at his awareness... someone-something was taking him. The effort was too much. He had already demanded too much of himself, pushed his body too far past what he was capable of. Darkness swirled in, almost like a new form of wind.

-x-x-x-xx

Sam made quick work, returning within a minute to carry out the worst thing he would ever have to do. Sam knelt above Dean again, aiming the demon trapping wooden javelin at his brother's shoulder. The weight of the Palo Santo stake feeling like the weight of the world in his fingers. All of Sam read horror- His face, mind, and body wanted to stop his actions. Yet, the hunter part of him knew this was the only way. He selected the impact target carefully, choosing the shoulder in an attempt to lessen the blow and lessen the damage. His mind still reeling in disbelief that this was happening and that he was hurting his own brother in such a way. He couldn't bear to watch the task Dean has placed upon him. Closing his eyes, he stabbed the rod downward. Part of his unwillingness would not let him to stab his brother at full strength. The half- strength swing sent a gentle whoosh to the air. It might as well have been a blast going off in Sam's guilt plagued ears when the blow descended. He braced himself to hear a crunch, yet, the weapon did not break into flesh. Instead, Sam's wrist had been captured by Dean's outstretched arm

"Oh... thank God! I couldn't do that…just let me finish the excorci…"

Dean felt the final pain go jolting through his skull, making him see spots. For a moment, everything was black. Then, he looked up toward his beloved brother, eeking out an emotional plea. "Sammy…" He whispered. The tone saying I love you and I'm sorry in one single breath.

"…suam ædificavit supra firmam petram, et portas inferi adversus eam nunquam esse…"

"Sammy… Sammy…Sammy…." The oddness of the voice trailed a shiver down Sam's spine. Dean's head tilted with a smirk tugging on the corner of his lip. The voice and the face belong to his brother, but the words and motions were no longer. The cold and gloating tone belong to the demon.

"Oh my God," Sam whispered, glancing into his brother's blood red swirling eyes.

"Don't get your hopes up, Poppet." Whirlpools of the strange demonic cloud rolled and filled inside of Dean's pupils; removing the soft verdigris that belong to Dean.

"Dean!" With the last bit of willpower he possessed, Sam lunged backwards, breaking free of demon's iron grip on his wrist, intent on one thing only- saving Dean at all cost.

"I think not, young one!" The Rider charged at him from the ground with unnerving strength and agility. The demon used that momentum to fling Sam like an insignificant bug towards a parked car.

Sam's body twisted and turned in the air until his soft back tissue slammed into the front passenger side door and window. After the impact, he slid downwards against the door as the broken glass from the passenger window rained down upon him.

The rider let a malevolent smile cross Dean's features, when he strutted towards his Winchester prey. Sam, not to outdone, swung a fist at the demon, finding difficult to separate that he was going to hurt Dean as he hurt the thing inside.

The demon, ready for the attack, blocked Sam's attempt at defense. He picked Sam up, spun him around with inhuman strength, causing the younger hunter to gasp out in shock. The demon locked his arms around Sam's ribs until he felt a pop of a rib bone. Then the villain hissed inside Sam's ear, "Now, now, Sammy. You wouldn't want to hurt Dean, would you?"

He held Sam back against his chest and lifted him high in the air. Sam's feet swung wildly, unable to make contact with the ground. Instead, he used that position to try to connect with some part of demon. His efforts were rewarded with the already shaken hunter being slammed into the metal car hood repeatedly. His breath was knocked out of him and it paralyzed him for a few moments.

The demon laughed, thinking he was unstoppable in this battle. The one thing he didn't know was the Winchester tenacity to keep going. The other Winchester guarantee was they would not go down without waging a hell of a fight. So, Sam reared back smacking Dean's nose with as much force as he could muster. Sam expected the cartilage and tissue to snap under his efforts, but he demon merely waivered off guard for a moment and lost his grip on Sam.

When Sam whirled around, he saw the demon shaking his head with not a single drop of blood spilling from the impact. Sam's effort did no damage to the demon.

The demon grinned malevolently at his prey for a moment, seemingly enjoying the idea of Sam fighting. "Little mouse… do you think you have the power to hurt me."

"You aren't keeping him!" Sam screamed.

"There is little for you to do now, insignificant one."

"Watch Me!"

"Fine then, have it your way."

Sam charged and barreled into Dean's torso, punching for all that was in him. A strange unknown laugh slipped from his brother's lips. Not Dean's hearty fun-filled, sometimes sarcastic laughter, but one that sent shivers up Sam's spine. It was hard enough separating who he was fighting from the brother he loved. He wanted to spared Dean pain, but he was at a lost for how to do that. Strangely, it was then that Sam realized the demon was letting him use Dean as a punching bag. He stopped, shifted back, and stared, seeing that his blows caused no pain or damage to Dean. Not bruise, cut, or scratch dented or marred the possessed body.

"Sam. Do you give up so easily. This playtime makes me is little more than bothersome to me, but I already have what I need," Dean said, grinning as he looked into Sam's eyes. The demon sent an open palmed blow into Sam's chest, tossing him again like an insignificant feather.

Sam crashed face first to the pavement. Trying to rolling over to launch another attack, Sam's momentum was stopped. He felt a boot press into the middle of his back, which quickly became a dropping knee to his spine. "Do you remember what it felt like to die, Sam? Do you remember the knife twisting inside you? I am going to send you back."

"NO… I'm sending you back to hell." Sam struggled to breathe. His abdomen and lungs pressed upon the cement under the demon's knee.

"You have no power to send me to hell…I am not a warrior of hell. I am the Red Rider. No power is greater than I. This world will burn." The Rider vowed in a taunting whisper. He rose and drove into Sam's back again, causing Sam body to recoil violently. Sam swore he felt the bones of his vertebrae scraping along his brother's knee.

Sam's groans made the Rider seethed in anticipation. The sounds of pain echoed as a symphony in the Rider's ear. "Now, it's time for you to die. I have my _Appoloin._ You are worth nothing to me. Your time to lead has passed. My time is now."


	3. Kill Or Be Killed

The heavy boot adjusted, moving its aim up the numerous inches to target Sam's spine at the nape of the neck. The tenfold savage power of hell itself thumped within that blow, engorged with the intention of death. The boot crashed towards Sam. Above him the rider contented with the satisfaction of victory. At the last possible moment, Sam rolled. Dean's boot smashed into the pavement and the worn concrete cracked like shattering glass from the force of impact. The boot and foot sunk in the ground as far as the ankle.

While the demon freed his sunken foot, Sam shifted his weight, pushing himself upright. He touched his aching back, finding a small trace of wet blood upon his fingertips. In one smooth motion he scooped up his Palo Santo stake. He gripped the holy wood, using it as a buffer between he and the demon possessed Dean.

With a quiet rage, the demon charged in crisp, otherworldly movements, sharp like his bones were snapping into place. His body moved as graceful and deadly as a cobra. When the demon passed Sam, he punched a balled fist into Sam's jaw. Sam's neck snapped back, but his hands whished the Palo Santo, the jagged point contacting, ripping through Dean's cotton t-shirt and a thin layer of skin on his abdomen. Dean hissed.

"Hurts doesn't it! Whatever you are, you can't have either of us!" Sam demanded. He wielded the stake with skill and precision as if the piece of wood was a personal Excalibur. The fury inside Sam darkened. He actually enjoyed the discovery he could harm the demon. His earlier punches may not have been effective, but this blessed wood opened the flesh easily. Within a single eye blink, he felt a death wind realization that shocked him to his core. The satisfaction he felt tempered, realizing he hurt Dean too.

This brief internal conflict was enough to distract Sam from his defenses. He took two solid punches to the head from Dean, and his nose was bleeding. He was stunned, yet furious. No careful evasions, no too-rapid changes of subject, just a sharp, pure expression of feelings. He jabbed the point forward, nicking just above Dean's shoulder blade.

Again, the demon-filled Dean moved back when the wood made contact. This time, however, Sam noticed an oddity. Before his eyes, the cut sealed, repairing itself. A quick glance to Dean's midsection found only bloodstains; the injury gone as if it never occurred. Sam knew demons could use the host husk in the most deplorable and decaying conditions, but never had he known one to be capable of healing the damage inflicted upon the host. "WHAT ARE YOU?" He screamed.

"I am the Scarlet- the madness of all mankind. All will tremble before me for my release signals the ends of days. Submit now and it will be far less painless."

"Sorry. Don't think so. If you were all so powerful you wouldn't need my brother!" Sam open his mouth with another retort perched on his lips, but whatever he was going to say was lost as demon socked him back with a single arm movement. He staggered and reeled backwards, managing to keep his footing. He steadied himself and came back at the demon.

"Fine, if that's how you want it!" Sam yelled, letting the dark edges he kept a bay fill him and fuel him. To an outsider, it would appear he lacked self-control. The old adage of not letting appearances fool you was never more appropriate. Sam's moves were more precise and more forceful. "Sorry Dean." He apologized now for whatever healing time it would take Dean to get back to par. So, if this was to be the end for the Winchesters, then they were going to have it out properly for once. Sam looked deadly. He twirled the wooden stake inside his fingers. They stood five feet apart, eyeing each other.

The first signs of trepidation painted on the newly demonic face. "None have dominion over me."

The rider threw a right hook; Sam dodged it and slashed the wood javelin twice. Two neat slices dripped across the demon's chest. More violence delivered to Dean's midsection, then a straight left swipe nearly connected to Dean's throat.

Then, the demon came in low and for a split second he left his head exposed. Sam struck like a rattler. His right hand shot forward with a stab almost too quick to be seen, landing flush on his brother's cheek. A gouge appeared which began to seal in seconds. Dean, who had recovered, now quite enraged, charged him, but Sam's tackled into him, driving them both downward. Sam jutted the stake back with a hook to the right, driving the weapon stake into the inner stomach tissue.

The possessed man growled, but Sam pushed harder. He drew all of his energy to bring this battle to finality. Suddenly, the demon felt a presence deep within the body he possessed. For a brief second, Dean managed to grab control. The moment lasted no longer than two heart beats. Yet, the brevity of the control gave Sam a span of opportunity. The stake crept in further, finally breaking through the back.

Sam advanced, still looking very angry. He pushed the demon to the pavement, using his body's momentum to trap Dean to the ground. He shoved his knees in his brother's abs, utilizing the leverage to free the weapon and take another blow. "You're going to pay for what you did today." He jerked the stake out cleanly and quickly, following with another stab, which aimed lower than the previous thrust. The Palo Santo pushed into the soft flesh of Dean's right side. The possessed flesh made a hollow, suctioning sound as it bore into the tender tissue.

The rider's head banged. He squirmed about, trying to get loose. For the first time in this battle, there was a looming sense of danger churning inside the rider. Sam met his attack, blow for blow. There was only so much damage he could heal at one time. He lashed out with his demonic strength and connected with something soft. The weight holding him down shifted, enabling him to wriggle free. He lurched to his feet. The demon grew tired of uncertainty of this battle. Both Winchesters had shown powers of great resistance and the delay would be a risk to his plans. He thought a bit remorsefully. It was a pity that it had to end so soon, but that was fine by him. He'd had his fun. Bigger acts of carnage awaited him. Swiftly, he pulled the Palo Santo from his torso.

When Sam moved to reclaim his weapon, Dean plunged the point towards him. Time began to slow down. He could see the wood steak, inching its way towards him, getting closer and closer. He watched, horrified. The point made contact with his delicate skin. Without hesitation it plowed inside his stomach and tore into his insides. He could see it happening and knew it was pushing its way past the layers of skin and tissue, until it slowed down and stopped for good, no doubt piercing all the way through him. With a start, he realized his face felt dotted with something warm.

Sam stood frozen for a moment in time, he couldn't measure how long. He stood there facing his brother, who still held the tip of the weapon impaling him. Rudely, the stake was withdrawn as his flesh struggled to grasp on it, wanting something to fill the damaged void.

The demon withdrew from the battle. The taste of victory rumbled in his storm tossed eyes. "Goodnight, little toy soldier." The demon flayed the wood, spinning it round and round. The effect of the weapon was almost euphoric.

Sam grabbed his stomach; his index finger plunged inside the hole where it had gone in his belly and out his lower left side. It was a clean puncture all the way through. He saw the blood on his fingers and the blood spreading on his shirt. He looked at the demon for a moment, and then in slow motion he moved towards him. His head jerked sharply and Sam's eyes rolled back in his head. His shoulders slumped and his head fell back, like a rag doll. One leg went woozy and bent at the knee, then the other leg collapsed.

He gazed up at Dean, like his brother was from another planet. The darkest images of Sam's mind never imagined this moment. He didn't even realize he had crashed onto the concrete. Almost immediately blood began to seep out, pooling on the surrounding gray of the concrete. His eyes stared blankly up at the sky, unseeing. There was the smell of gun powder on his skin, a copper tang on his lips, and so much blood covering his torso. The red liquid flowed into his mouth, and he had to force himself to swallow, lest he choke on his own blood.

His lips and eyes felt burned. The rest of him morphed to a limp bundle of nerves and flesh. He could feel a sluggishness working its way through his system. He shivered involuntarily as tears of pain coursed down his face. Unable to move and already paralyzed by the first pangs of shock, he could do nothing but watch the demon take his brother away. He expected the world to turn black, but it didn't. A veil of grey shielded his eyes like film covering a frog pond. It muted the colors to a blur. By now Sam was unconscious, and the only sign that he was even alive was his gurgling attempt to breathe. He slumped, and then it all went black.


	4. Fury

Eyelids pried open with pupils so large and so alarmed that the black almost strangled out all the hazel. Sweat trickles down in rivulets as Sam's body hummed with the rush of dying. All around him he could hear voices, or so he thought. He focused harder, finding ebony clouds battling like Titans in an overcrowded sky. Thunder rumbled deep, moaning with a thousand demonic voices on the wind, singing the same refrain from earlier. The lightning was sharp, forking and slashing across the hostile sky. Suddenly, the heavens opened, lamenting and keening with Sam.

Loud thumps pounded against his rib cage as his heart forced blood through his body, only to seep from the open hole in his stomach. His blood drained, red warmth sinking into the cracks of the pavement and leaving him cold. The pain rode on waves and waves through him. He looked down to opening he knew was there even thought he appeared to still be surprised Dean's hand did this to him. Death's fingers enticed more blood from the wound and he could feel the life seeping from him. .

Sam focused trying to find an image, the slightest inkling of Dean's presence, but he was alone. It's amazing what runs through your head when death approaches. Everyone assumed life flashes, and Sam would love the opportunity to relive good moments. But, they were too few to count and recollect. All he ever had in life was pain. Pain, bruises, death, and scars that he covered up with his high ideals and words, while holding onto Dean as an anchor. Now, even that was taken from him, long before it was due and in a way that was worse than death in Sam's eyes.

He scooted several inches, ignoring the pain, cold, and numbness that crept along his spine. Shallow breaths panted from him as he focused on the choices he made in his life. If he had changed one thing would it have mattered? If he stayed with John and Dean instead of Stanford, would they all be safe now? One small step in another direction might have changed everything. He can't be sure at the moment because moments change and so do the choices you make.

He was dying. But if he could just focus on one thing, perhaps he could escape Death herself. He knew better. There was no escaping death now and she always found her mark eventually. She might have let him slip when Dean made that deal, but not now. He forced his breath to slow as evenly as possible, but they were still shallow. He hated to hear the weak wheezing that escaped his mouth. He knew he hadn't much time left, mere moments at best. Would he recognize his last moment? Or would he slip away before he realized? Would there be peace for him at last? Perhaps death was like sleeping and he would feel nothing, ever again. The idea terrified him, sending a struggle to his cold body.

"Dammit" He mouthed more than said. He'd meant to go out on a bang, not slowly like this. He didn't want to go out quietly and alone with still so much left unsaid and undone. He'd always thought he'd die saving somebody else in a no choice situation.

His fingers found the gaping hole in stomach and pressed down to hold back the spreading pool of crimson. As he lay on the street, he could feel the blood seeping in between his fingers. The scenery washed with blood as the rain poured upon him, coating the area with diluted blood. He swore he could hear the rapid, thready pulse within him growing ever weaker.

The silence and darkness was suffocating. The world was completely still besides the storm and falling rain patter. His body twisted, lying there limply. The warmth crept over his hands with a searing pain invading his chest. He found himself crying from swollen eyes. A senseless act, knowing the tears would not bring Dean back or help with the pain. Yet, he needed some release from it all- some way to protest his dying body and the lost of his sibling. Angry tears coursed down his cheeks. It hurt so much. It hurt that a world never gave them any breaks. It hurt that he had trusted a world and had faith it would all be okay. He hated that he had faith that goodness would triumph over the evil they faced day in and day out. Now no one here when he needed someone. He had saved countless others, but no one was here to save him.

He was alone, cold, dying and miserable. The long-forgotten feelings churned around him like a cyclone. No matter how his subconscious tried to escape the pain and loneliness, he couldn't. Before he could stuff the emotions back into the far reaches of oblivion, a memory broke from the fortress of his mind and blazed before him: Dean! His mind grew foggy and he knew he was dying. It wasn't what he expected. It was cold and cruel, taking him when he least wanted it, when his brother needed him.

Remembering, it all came, painfully, gushing back. Pure agony stabbed a blade in him, mauling his spirit with daggers of red-hot pain. He couldn't think Dean. Not now. He needed his anger to get him out of this mess. It made him powerful. With a half-strangled sob, the memories came rushing back, a tide of sorrow. His anger flared up. A furnace of darkness flamed within him and built into a hellish inferno. He pushed away from the grogginess within him, keeping himself alive. He sometimes felt he was born of a fury that even he did not fully understand. What good was all this anger, if it couldn't save his family?

He tried to upright himself, but he only managed to move his head a few inches. But it was just enough to see an approaching car. Headlights struck against Sam's opened eyes. He tried to move, but couldn't. The pain in his gut stole all of his energy away. He licked at his lips to call out, recognizing the sleekness of the Impala immediately. The dryness in his throat made no sound, but the car stopped inches from him. His voice made no sounds, other than groans and shallow breath pants when the car chugged in front of him. He breathed heavily through his mouth, letting his anger keep him from the brink. When and if the possessed Dean exited the car, he would make sure his brother wasn't some demon's pawn- no matter what it took. If no one else would save them, then he would with his dying breath.

The car door screeched as it opened, and a shadowed figure poured from the driver side door. The silhouette of a man loomed close to Sam and hunched over the fallen hero. Sam tired to form a fist before a voice said, "Hold on Sammy. I'll take care of you."


	5. Signs of War

Even in the fading light, the crimson red sunglo finish shined on the Harley-Davidson Softail Rocker-C. A few white detailed flames graced the side panels, almost as they were drawing the view to the self-assured Rider perched on top. His charcoal jeans gripped against the motorcycle tightly, shifting the vehicle easily at speeds so fast both rider and machine blurred at one. The wind friction rippled an onyx black leather jacket back, exposing at fitted black dress shirt on the rider's frame.

Abruptly, the man slowed down his metal beast, pulling into the lot of a hole-in-the wall dive, named Jolly Darcy's. Thick soled combat boots kicked down the motorcycle's stand, and then that leg swung over the top of the bike with lightening flash speed and grace. The rider smiled before his head twitched in disjointed super speed jerks like he had a nervous twitch. With no one to witness this reaction, the patrons just inside had no idea of the danger approaching them. He needed to find a victim—Anyone would suffice. He snickered as old man, who sought to quench his woes, passed by the rider in haste.

Again, the spasms came, but the rider seemed amused by this reaction. The striking figure entered the bar as the sounds of the rusted door and his boot steps announced his arrival. He simply strutted inside, eyed the patrons within, and then proceeded to the jukebox. Without loading any money, the man pressed several selections on the prompt. The guitar riffs of "Back and Black" began to play, causing the creature to wrench and flinch another time. "Sorry, Dean... you can't have control," he whispered to the presence he shared a meat suit with. From time to time, Dean would flare awake and fight for consciousness, but the rider was too powerful for him to control. Yet, every so often, the hunter would try to reclaim his body. The screams were a whisper to the Red Rider now, barely even audible over the screeching of the classic rock that accosted the ears of the patrons

With the temporary buzzing of Dean out of the way, the Red Rider strutted past the few drinkers, who were well on their way to drinking to oblivion. The lone line of bar stools stood nearly empty as the clock chimed. The meager light inside was barely enough to see an old man drowning his way through a bucket of beers, a hunter talking about the deer her killed this afternoon, a woman nursed back a drink at the bar, and two young rednecks kicked back at the pool table, telling dirty jokes. He walked in a superior stance towards the bar, relishing the sensation of how it good it felt to be able to _touch_ things- awakening senses. The demon was full of desire to experience life, although you wouldn't have been able to tell from his face. The mask of Dean's humanity that wore on this face was still perfectly in place, although it was most definitely wavering slightly.

A middle aged woman hummed as she worked, set down the glass she was cleaning, and went to take the Rider's order. "Hey pal, what do you need?"

"Hmnm... what would you think a man like me drinks?" The rider questioned condescendingly, not really knowing what his new human body would prefer.

"Whiskey."

"Than I shall have that."



The bartender ignored the strange way the rider carried himself and poured a straight whiskey shot in a glass. Dean picked up the glass and sipped at the glass rim. Somewhere in his head he heard his host ridiculing his stupidity of the human world. The sharp blade planes of Dean's face contorted with the momentary loss of control, but the demon squashed the voice easily and sneered. "Humans!" The Red Rider thought as he traced the ring of condensation his glass left on the cheap plastic bar top and split his gaze between the dull circle of water and the woman who sat on the opposite him. She ordered another tequila shot and downed it within seconds, sans the salt and the lime. Bitterness embraced the many worry wrinkles on her face. She ordered another and another and another, downing each one in quick order.

The demon killed his drink and moved closer, ordering another shot of whiskey. "Leave the bottle," he told the bartender. But, as he does this, he begins to speak to the woman. She clenched her glass and goes to drink it when the rider stops her, "spirits can rid you of pain, but not death."

She alarmed. "Get your damn hands off me she said. "Those good looks are getting you any today. I know what you want to do."

The two men from the pool table began to approach as if they were preparing to defend one of their own. The rider let them come and kept his hand on the wrist of the woman. "My dear, you have no idea what I want."

"I doubt that."

But, the rider the rider could sense her excitement of being near his possessed shell. He read her image of lust, thinking of the way Dean's lip would feel on hers. He senses her regret that she no longer had youth and beauty to attract the young man. "You like the way I appear, very pleasing."

Go to hell, you freak!" She moved her purse, showing a can of mace. "So back off, bucko!" she screamed.

"HEY! LET HER GO!" One of the local men took a swing with a pool stick. The rider caught the staff without looking. His hand glowed red and his finger traced over the man's forearm in an almost intimate touch. "You sicko... what..." The man stopped speaking. Red lines illuminated on the skin from the rider's attacker. The local stopped as if he was a rubber band pulled out to long until it snapped.

The second man freaked and drew back his fist. The blow was countered and the rider grazed the man's check with a streaking red traces. Suddenly the two men turned and began attacking each other and anyone in sight. One by one the rider touched the patrons and bartender, each responding with hostility and random attacks upon each other. The lapse between touch and aggression had barely time to register before they began attacking each other. The deer hunter knocked the elderly men from his chair and drove a boot into the man's face. A barrage of fist, feet, and objects slammed into human flesh, leaving behind nothing but a sticky haze of gore and bone.

The woman cowered and tried to flee, but Rider hoisted her by the neck and lifted her with one arm. He brought her close and indulged her former lust with a deep kiss. Through the act, he felt his host bulk in disgust, making a bid for control with no success. He lowered her down, and 

a trace of red glow appeared on her lips. Within seconds, she jumped in the fray, just as maddened as the other.

"Hmmm... not unpleasant this kissing." He acknowledged, feeling Dean's presence raging against the way his body was just used. Then the Rider walked back to the bar, poured another shot of whiskey, and then drank it down. He perched on the bar stool with the bottle and calmly poured himself another, ignoring the carnage going on all around him. He listened to the battle cries and crunching of human bones breaking without even a flinch. Then when the sound died down, the Rider smiled.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x—x-x

Sam sat up, his heart pounding rapidly. His fingers shaking, he brought them to his face and touched it cautiously. He looked down at his fingers and rubbed them together as he let out a sigh of relief. Sweat, not blood, drenched his fingers. He ran the same fingers through his messy brown hair and let out another panicked breath. He could've sworn that the blood that had splattered onto his face had been real. His throat was dry. Had he been screaming in his sleep? Heart still pounding a little too fast, he struggled to untangled his sweaty body from the blankets and find his brother. When he moved, he realized the pain his abdomen was more than real. He noticed the sun shined through a dirty window, bathing everything in a bright ethereal light. Then he saw a man, dressed in catholic garb, preaching to an empty room. Vaguely, Sam wondered if he awoke in some hellish version of Phantasm, for the man looked as frightening as the old man in that movie. "Hello?" Sam managed to squeak out in a dry voice.

Ezra stood in middle of the room, preaching to no one. "And there before me was a white cloud, and seated on the cloud was one like the son of man with a crown of gold on his head and a sharp sickle in his hand."

"Hello," Sam spoke again, and tried to get up.

The preacher didn't respond, but continued his sermon. "Still another angel spoke take your sharp sickle and gather the grapes  
from the vine."

"Where am I? Where's Dean?"

"The grapes were gathered and thrown into the winepress and blood flowed out of the press, rising as high as the horses' bridles for the distance of 180 MILES"

"Stop the SERMON AND TELL ME WHERE I AM! I don't have time for this mumbo jumbo!" Sam's anger burned with the pain in his body. At the moment, he could beat the answers out of anyone. He had never felt this out of control.

"It's easy to be sarcastic about religion. Sam, please sit down," he said kindly. "Although, no one is here to listen, I find it hard not to give a good sermon on Sundays. Now, let's see how you are faring this morning. Good to see you moving. How are you feeling?" Ezra turned to smile fondly at the young hunter.

"How do you know?"

"God told me your name, plus I have told you mine at least five times during your fever, which I am glad to say broke this morning."

"Who are you? WHERE'S DEAN!? ANSWER ME!"

"Calm yourself, my son."

"I'M NOT YOUR SON!" Anger flashed and Sam let it grow. He wanted answers and wanted them now.



"I meant in the heavenly sense, Samuel." Ezra stated kindly. "My name is Father Ezra. You're safe, but your brother is in grievous danger. We will need to get you rested and healed in order to stop the end of the world."

"What are you talking about!?"

"I'm afraid one of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse has taken over Dean and if the dark forces use the rider's powers, it will spell doom for all."

"I… But.. I saw Dean... he saved…"

"I'm afraid that was me. The rider had no need for your car or you after he took Dean. I came just as the demon was set to deliver you a final blow, but for some reason he stopped. And it was not out of kindness. God then revealed to me that your brother fights for control. He stopped the Rider from harming you, but he grows weaker even know. I found your car and took you to my church."

"That's impossible; Dean would never leave his car."

"I'm afraid Dean doesn't exist at this moment. He has been taken."

"That's impossible! We safe guarded against possessions." Sam started to pull his shirt to reveal the tattoo, Ezra's voice stopped him.

"That bit of ink would work on demons, but Dean has been taken by something slightly different. As one of the four Horsemen, particularly the Red Rider of War, he doesn't follow the same confines of demons for he is neither good nor evil, but a means to an end. When the gate was opened, the sinister forces broke his seal. Without the guidance of God to give the rider purpose, he is enamored with the guise of humanity. His purpose has been warped beyond all recognition by evil. We have to return him to his seal. God has given this charge to you and your brother. The mother of all demons plans to use the Rider to open the other seals. Then the earth will be the domain of evil long before the destined time. You must help me…"

"The only thing I have to do is help Dean!"


	6. Appoloin

"At the moment that goal seems to be mutually exclusive. We have to stop the Rider, if you want to save Dean."

"If you so much as say save Dean save the world…"

Ezra flashed a strangled smile, "No, trust me. You're going to need…"

"I don't even know you!" Sam's frustration and pain fused.

The response he received was soothing as fresh washed sheets. "I understand that, but you going off without knowledge will do little to help you or your brother."

"Do you know what demons do to the human host!?"

"I am quite aware. But, that is why it sought out you both."

Frustration boiled. "What are you talking about!?"

"First, lie down and let me get you a pain killer. Then, I will tell you all that I know," the preacher said in a matter of fact tone. Ezra looked at Sam with a mixture of command and sympathy. He understood the young man's frustration. For men of action lying around in pain must be doubly frustrating.

Somewhere deep inside some angry inside of Sam melted. "I don't need a pain killer. I just need answers." Sam said a bit more calmly.

Before Sam was aware, Ezra had got close enough to ease Sam back down into the cot, so the young hunter could be more comfort. Sam felt a cool soothing cloth on his forehead. Ezra hummed part of some hymn that Sam swore was familiar, but he couldn't place the tune.

"That tune? What…?"

"Your mother use to hum it to you," Ezra said as if he were an expert on all things Winchester.

Sam found it hard to fathom that the preacher could know that, when he didn't even have a way of confirming it. It was far easier to make a claim like that with no proof to validate or invalidate it. "You don't expect me to believe…"

"God doesn't believe in atheist, therefore they don't exist." Ezra snapped out without blinking. He had said it in such a way as to give Sam something to think.

"That's not what I meant," Sam reasoned.

"I know, but you need to have faith. You have always had in the past, why do you question it now?"

Scoffing, Sam paused before he spoke. "All of this. Dean is..."

"You're worried about Dean's deal?"

"How did…"

"I think you know my answer, young one."

"But, I don't understand. I have prayed to God and asked for help, but none comes. We have faced so much, why us… I don't…"

"You are Appoloin."

"The demon said that to us." The thought sparked to life like a match near gasoline. "What….?"

"Appoloin was the angel of destruction, charged with guarding the pit of hell. When Appoloin was finally defeated in battle, he knew the gates would be left unguarded. His final act was to give up the last part of him that made him divine. That energy spread to the earthly realm inside human vessels. Through the years and long lines only a few of you remain. They are fated to vanquish evil back to hell."

"Come on, this is a bit too Harry Potter, defeating some dark lord…."

"Fiction comes from a shred of truth somewhere. You should know that from all the legends you have researched. And knowing your legacy will not help change the past or the future."

"Dean's going to be alright, isn't he?" Sam asked staring at Ezra.

"I don't know."

"Isn't he?" Sam demanded. "Dean's OK?"

"For now, but I'm afraid you won't like what he's become. You must be strong enough to face battle with your own sibling and things are going to get ugly."

"I've seen ugly before."

"Not like this. The Rider is acting like a demon at this moment. He is the ultimate reaper of souls and he is been given a demonic army that will come to destroy this church for it is the last one foretold in Revelations."

Sam stared off, thinking that Ezra was a nutter. He didn't notice that the preacher had gone quiet for a moment. When the holy man began to speak, he wasn't speaking to Sam. "Father, it pains me that you ask this of me. I do not take pleasure in breaking a young man's heart, but I serve you as always." Finally, he turned to Sam " You need proof of how ugly this is going to become. Come….there's something you should see. Prepare yourself for a harsh reality."

"There is nothing you can show me that I can't take. If you know where Dean is, take me!" Sam reassured.

--x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Later inside Jolly Darcy's………..**

Sam closed his eyes, but the terrible scene didn't vanish, glaring like a beacon inside his mind. So he opened his eyes, and still the horror remained. Sam wasn't sure how many bodies lay in the massive collection of tissue, blood, and bones. The light shone dimly over the carnage, cruelly almost, as a spotlight of what had happened here.

"I'm sorry." Ezra said solemnly. "It is not only Dean you face, with all his skills, but a creature that can take men's peace with a single touch. I'm sorry you had to see this."

A gulp caught in Sam's throat, not of fear, but horror that his brother was the vessel of so much death. Some were so mangled it was impossible to tell where one body began and another ended. A select few still looked as if they were about speak, unuttered words forever frozen on 

their bloodless lips. Silent screams hung on still air with a deafening silence. Sam turned away, when a fly lighted on his hands. "God no…"

The inhabitants were far from human now. The warped and hideously mangled bodies twisted and oozed along the floor boards. The abominations continued as mere spatters on furniture and the four walls. The dreadful stench had already begun. Blood. Rotting. Death.

Sam closed his eyes, trying not to see and wondering if his brother was near. He opened his eyes, searching the bodies to see if Dean lay among the dead. And feeling guilty crept in that he was relieved that his even the bastardized version of his brother still lived.

A small noise caught Sam's ear and he turned on instinct. Just beneath the broken remains of a table someone still lived. Then he saw a slight movement. With a rough kick he cleared the wreckage. A woman, badly injured, lay barely alive, but still conscious. She was covered in human blood and remains.

"Help me…" She begged and struggled to sit up, peering at Sam through the dry blood that caked her face.

Sam knelt down by the woman and clutched her hand. "I got you. Help is on the way! CALL 911!" Sam yelled at Ezra.

The holy man shook his head confirming the idea Sam already had. It was too late, but Sam didn't want to accept it.

"I'm dying… aren't I…" She panicked, coughed and clutched at Sam. Her breathing was harsh, and she gurgled out blood. She cried, fixing Sam with her penetrating stare.

"No…no…you're going to be fine." Sam lied and choked out the words, wiping the tears away from her stained cheeks. Chest heaving, he did his best to caress her pain away. He stared at her for a long while, giving slight, almost imperceptible reassurances.

Ezra knelt down next to Sam. "Rest my dear child. When you wake again all the pain will be gone." Sam's newest friend crouched by his side and soothed the woman. "Carney, my dear, you are safe now."

"How did you…" She wanted to ask the man how he knew her, but the words would not fully form.

"He just knows," Sam said as he stroked her blood soaked hair. He thought he heard her sob, but he wasn't sure. She reached out a hand blindly, and he hesitantly took it. He squeezed it, wanting to reassure her, to comfort her.

She squeezed his hand back gently. "I killed…Please… I didn't want to….he…he made me… Pleaseforgive me," the woman sobbed.

Sam said it first. "You're forgiven."

"Rest in Peace, dear sister" Ezra stated, pitching his voice louder and more somber. "No servant of God goes unremembered.

With that last rite of forgiveness, Sam felt Carney's soul stir for an instance, then watched her fall into eternal slumber. Sam bowed his head, and gently let go of her hand.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, spirit lay to rest," Ezra finished.

Sam looked away, and when he finally turned back, tears run down his cheeks. "She gone." His voice became small, sounding very much like a little boy. "Dean did this?"Bottom of Form

Ezra gave a small nod.

"What do I have to do? Tell me. You don't know him! He'll hold himself responsible for them. This will kill all he is."

"You have to be stronger. You brother is a better man than he knows. But someone does know and he is on your side, Samuel. Dean's done so much. Helped so many people. Changed so many lives.

"He's never left any place or person untouched, always for the better."

"Not anymore. Now, his touch is deadly. You have to forget you fight Dean's body. You felt the pull to that in your first battle, but you couldn't go to the place to do the job. Dean is your strength and weakness. You must figure out the timing of when to choose your brother over mankind. Forces are pulling you more than you know. You are on a path of destruction and you feel that anger growing."

"Tell me what is there not to be angry about!"

I honestly don't know. However, you must learn when to be the hunter and when to be the brother. We must lure the Rider to the church before he amasses a bigger army. God gave Dean this burden for he is strong enough to fight from within. Even in the smallest of ways, he can tip the balance in our favor. We must be ready to capture a creature that has been given superior domain over men. He carries his seal with him. It is the only thing that can contain him. We must close his portal to this world."

"Are you telling me that we have to steal the Rider's closest possession!? Get so close that he can touch…"

"Yes, and getting him back inside of the seal will be even more difficult."


	7. Facing our Demons

"Are you sure you're ready?" Ezra questioned more to remind Sam that he was with him than to question the hunter's capabilities. What he really wanted to ask was if Sam how he was feeling, but thought the inquiry would seem ill timed following the bloody aftermath they had just witnessed a few hours ago. After the scene at the bar, Sam seemed more accepting of Ezra's odd way of praying and uncanny way of being right. He guessed that was more than enough cause to be thankful. Yet, occasionally Sam questioned the priest with a barrage of questions. At the moment the young man was quiet and Ezra couldn't help feeling a bit ill at ease. "I have faith things will not be easy, but we have a higher…"

"I've practiced…" Sam interrupted. "…the Archangel Michael's exorcism and I know Dean has the seal on him, now if I just find what it is and keep him from turning me mad and keep him from hurting anyone else and keep Dean alive and keep…"

"Then you are ready." Ezra noted to stop the rambling thoughts coming out of Sam. "Once Dean arrives, we will spring our trap and seal the Rider to rest."

"Still not sure purifying the Rider by baptism is going to be easy." Sam's thoughts lingered back to the drive from Jolly Darcy's. Sadly, he tried not to think about anything and half listened to the preacher go on and on about what they had to accomplish. However, Ezra seemed to sense Sam's lack of focus and repeat his "divine knowledge", or so the man called it, several times. Sam would have felt better if he or Dean thought this hair brained idea up.

"It's not easy, but necessary. I wish we were promised easy, but God did promise this trial was necessary for both you and Dean."

"That doesn't make me feel better."

"Just keep your emotions under control- All of them. And unfortunately, we must remove the tainted part of the Rider and then we will use the archangel's exorcism to return him to his slumber until the time is due. If we send him back without purifying him…" Ezra sighed "...The seal was not meant to hold evil. It will not hold if we do not remove the demonic influence."

"I feel much better." The sarcasm laid thick and heavy on Sam's words.

"I do have some small measurement of comfort for you." Ezra beamed, holding a gold glistening necklace in his palm- Dean's amulet. Sam gasped a slight breath, but reached out tentatively. "I found it by your side the night I found you. The Rider had no use for it and left it behind."

"Why? Why would he take it off? It's just junk I gave Dean a long time ago… It's worthless." Sam spouted holding the item with an unyielding pressure now.

"I would say the value is priceless to two people in this world. Who knows? One day it may provide you with solace in the most trying of times."

"Doubt that."

"One thing I am sure of…the smallest of things can lead you through the darkest of fires, lead you back home, or remind you of who you are when you are most lost. I think for now, Dean would want you to keep this safe for him."

Sam shoved the cord over his head and the weight of the amulet fell next to Sam's heart. For a brief instance it felt warm, but that sensation faded in less than a flash. "Yeah, Dean will want this back." Sam's voice shook, but he evened it out with a rhetorical question. "You sure the Rider will come here?"

Patiently, Ezra answered again. "Yes. I only wish I was sure our plans will be successful."

"Pray harder."

"Praying perpetually since we got here." The priest reassured Sam.

Looking across the empty playground, Sam's gaze froze, ever watchful. Of all the places they had been that were too dark, too evil and too creepy to mention, the emptiness of the swings, the spinner, the monkey bars, and the teeter totter surpassed them all. Somehow without children the joy of this place was gone. Just an hour ago the place screamed of childhood and life.

He managed to scare off most of the parent and children pretending to be the EPA, quoting something about the effects of lead paint and assuring the crowd if anything was found they should tune into the local news. Tomorrow the scam would be discovered and they would be long gone. He would have been proud of the scam now had he not noticed her. A young girl, barely 13 by Sam's estimation crossed the grounds. "Son of a bitch." He said without thinking. "Oh sorry, father."

"In this particular moment I think any swearing will be absolved."

"I've got to get her out of here." Without waiting for Ezra to acknowledge the statement Sam rushed over to the young woman, wondering what the best excuse was to get rid of a teenager quickly.

A gust of wind blew in from the east, blowing her raven hair across her pale white face. Sam could see that the girl dyed her hair, a sure tell by the blonde roots showing. Her face held ultra green eyes that almost uttered I can take care of myself and who is this jerk coming towards me. Her catholic school girl uniform shifted as she crawled to the top of the money bars and perched, watching Sam's approach. Her legs dangled down over bar ledge, swinging back and forth like a toddler would.

A stronger gust of wind blew across her face again suddenly she stopped swinging her legs and scrunched her nose. A faint smile appeared across her plush lips. "Move along, perv," she definitely ordered Sam.

"I'm not a perv…uh… Amy…" Sam read her name from a school ID badge on the label of her stark white pressed shirt.

"It's Chalice."

"Chalice?"

"It's my name, Sasquatch."

"Your ID says Amy."

"I like Chalice better." She noted sarcastically.

"Look it's dangerous to be here, there's some toxic exposure in this park."

"Yeah…. I'm sure…. You might fool someone with half a brain."

"I'm trying to be nice here, I think it would be safer for you to emote somewhere else."

"I'm Goth, not emo. Again, if you had half a brain you would know the difference. Whatever your deal is, I really don't mind. I'm just skipping Sister Agnes' class and not taking that risk of dying from boredom."

Sam sighed, hoping a different approach would yield better results. "She sounds like my fourth grade English teacher, Ms. Edison. Listen, I know this a great ditch spot, but something really serious is going down and I…"

"What's that smell?"

The wind brought the scent of something, pungent and strange. When it blew once again, Chalice coughed, pinching her nose while burying her head into her arm. "EWWW! What the hell is THAT smell?!" she blurted out. She struggled off the bar, letting herself drop.

"Sulphur," Sam muttered. He pushed Chalice behind him. "Just stay out of the way and stay behind me."

"What are you talking about!?" She screamed at Sam, who only pushed her physically behind him.

"When you get a chance run, don't stop no matter what, don't call for anyone to help, don't draw his attention."

She didn't get time to protest as Sam backed her further back as someone began to approach them. "What…" she started.

"Shh…when it starts, run…Run fast…" he whispered. When Chalice spoke again, Sam didn't notice as his focus squarely tuned to Dean. It looked like his brother, it could have been him, should have been him, yet it was not. The walk was different, as was the expression plastered on his brother's features. It was not Dean, but the demonic reaper who filled him. The same dirty blond hair and green eyes, but with a lack of humanity. This man cared about nothing but his own nebulous agendas.

"Sam! Well, look who has come crawling back from death! If it isn't the all too goody brother. I don't know who helped…" The Rider's voice was even more forceful than Dean's. However, 

when the demon spotted Sam's accomplice, Ezra, moving from behind one of the garden walls, he answered his own question. "I should have known. Father Ezra, are you saving me the trip?"

"Actually, my son, I am saving your host the trip. Leave him now and await your time. Let not the powers of hell use you."

"My mission is clear."

"Your purpose has been twisted, but you just cannot see it."

"My vision is clear."

"Then you will face us and fail."

"Do you believe you can win?"

"Our odds are more powerful than you know. It is tenfold to the power you can imagine."

"No matter. More await my embrace." Dean didn't wait for a invitation, delivering a tremendous right cross to the side of Ezra's head Another fist connected with his older man's cheek and a knee found its mark to a soft stomach, sending the unskilled fighter to the playground's pavement.

Shortly, Dean whirled and seemingly floated at least twenty feet in the air and landed right in front of Sam, who jumped back and grimaced as he took a punch to the ribs. He would not have taken such a blow, had he not been covering Chalice from the demonic reaper's grasp.

Sam saw the next strike approach and took the charge out with a spinning roundhouse kick. He couldn't wait for the preacher to get back up, so he began to speak his part and only hoped Ezra rejoins the fray to do his. "Rinceps gloriosissime cælestis militiæ, sancte Michaël Archangele, defende nos in prælio et colluctatione, quæ nobis adversus principes et potestates" Sam voice recited relaxed, watching his brother's frame flinch as the words spilled forth. "…adversus mundi rectores tenebrarum harum, contra spiritualia nequitiæ, in cælestibusus."

While his mouth spouted his rehearsed incantation, his fists continued the fight. On arm guided Chalice safely behind him and the other punched furiously. The Rider drew back a hard right to Sam's jaw. Small white lights popped in Sam's eyes as he rubbed his sore jaw. Dean's face was contorted with fury and his fists were clenched, looking ready to punch Sam again.

Sam scrambled up, only to launch himself at the Rider. ARRRGGGHH!" He ran headlong into his possessed brother. The force behind the move, knocked both men to the multicolored playground spinner. "Veni in auxilium hominum, quos Deus creavit inexterminabiles, et ad imaginem similitudinis suæ fecit," he spouted holding the Rider's shoulders under his knees.

The effect on the creature inside of Dean was evident. He twisted strangely as if the next jerk could snap Dean's head off his neck. That was when Sam saw a new band of metal holding the oddest looking of medallions, strapped to Dean's wrist. "Et a tyrannide diaboli emit pretio magno. Præliare hodie cum beatorum Angelorum…."

Dean twitched for a moment, but the Rider was not ready to let Sam stop him. Suddenly the Rider felt a trickle of water drop on his face. Above the spinning circle, Dean could see Father Ezra standing, but it was the holy man's words that damaged the Rider the most. "Si non es baptizatus, ego te baptizo in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Exi ab ea, immunde spiritus, et da locum Spiritui Sancto Paraclito." The demon felt a pull from multiple fronts- from Sam, from Ezra, and from Dean.

When Sam's and Ezra's voice merged, spouting different incantation in Latin, the Rider harnessed his unearthly energy. He punched hard, using all his strength to send Sam crashing backwards, landing with a large thud at Chalice's feet.

She stood dumbfounded, staring at the battle until this particular moment. "Run," she whispered, repeating the command Sam gave to her earlier. The shock of witnessing the battle finally wore off and she suddenly bolted off in a full run.

Meanwhile, the Rider jumped from the spinning contraption and attacked Ezra. The holy man flew even further than Sam. He landed as the young girl fled, coming directly into Dean's path. "Time to even things up." Internally Dean taunted his possessor, trying his damndest to help Sam. The rider had not anticipated any resistance.

As the teen passed close, he grabbed her. The rider's face creased into a scornful smile, and he twisted Chalice into a painful arm lock. Chalice's gaze was strangely deep, emotions seething from tear-stained eyes. "I don't understand." she whispered, before struggling, trying to tear her arm away from his. "I have nothing to do with his."

"Shh…" the demon coaxed. The free hand traced along her cheek line. "It will all end for you soon….shh." Then he stroked her hair, let his fingers twirl in the black locks. He leaned closer, smelling the fruit scent in her hair. As he did these motions, Dean bulked, subconsciously screamed and tried to gain some control. His hand ignited with the flames of madness, ready to claim this young victim.

"NO!" Sam screamed, running towards his brother. He knows he can't make it in time to save her, but he will try anyway. But there was a sputter in the strange glow on Dean's hand. At first he thought it signified the demon was about to take the young girls capacity for peace, but then he noticed a softness in Dean's face- a begging for help. Dean was holding the demon at bay, waiting for Sam to do something to stop him. Yet, Sam stopped, reminding himself of the anger he felt during the first attack and scared by it now. He had fought so coldly against the only person he had and it wasn't enough to stop the Rider. Sam wondered if the only way was to kill. They had to kill so many other hosts. It seemed only fair the universe repaid him in such a way. Sam didn't know how he had gotten this far from feeling human. And now, karma made him pay for the humans that died under his watch. He had seen so many now, he had grown hard. He didn't even flinch when he killed the young girl that was possessed by the crossroad demon. Now, he wanted to scream what have I become at the top of his lungs.

Dean wanted to scream too, but he wanted to tell his brother to end this. As it was, he held on for a few more seconds, making himself say please. Chalice moved and grabbed her captor's 

arm, trying to cause him enough pain to free herself. She was almost successful, but at that precise moment Dean lost his control.

Sam didn't move, but he watched as Ezra pulled something from a leg strap at his ankle. He whipped the throwing knife out the holster and threw it at the Rider. The knife stuck right in the center of the thigh. When the knife impacted, the demon let go of the woman, who ran to Sam for safety.

"Accipe signum Crucis tam in fronte, quam in corde, sume fidem cælestium præceptorum: et talis esto moribus, ut templum Dei iam esse possis" Ezra said as the demon bore his gaze on the holy man.

The rider felt the first taste of fear. He pulled the knife from his leg and whirled it back as his attacker. The knife whipped and flew into Ezra's arm. The wound began to close.

At least the interaction awoke some need in Sam, who again lunged at his brother. But, the demon was no longer concerned with winning. He had an eternity to accomplish his mission. For now, he needed the priest and this hunter out of his way. He didn't wait for Sam to reach him before he bolted, running in retreat. The next time he faced them, the odds would be overwhelmingly in his favor.

Sam took after him for several yards, chasing the demon without any clue on what he would do if he caught up. He might have chased him all night had Chalice not screamed. She was standing above a struggling Ezra. By that time, Dean was nowhere to be seen.

Quietly he returned, bending down to assess the knife wound. He yanked the blade, noticing it was deep but not life threatening. Sad eyes glare up at him from the ground, telling Sam without words he is sorry. Sam swipes the sweat from his forehead and it comes away bloodied. Yet, he doesn't feel anything other than dread. "This is not over. It never is."


	8. Two halfs

Ezra swallowed hard, jerking the blade from his upper arm. He clenched the small slit for a second before he carefully sheathed his knife in the holder at his ankle. "I'm so sorry, Sam. I'm so sorry. We were winning and he knew it."

"It's not your fault." Sam's voice was blank and unmotivated.

WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT ABOUT!" Chalice screamed. "FREAKIN' FREAKS"

An awakening happened inside Sam, bringing him back. He had missed Ezra pulling himself off the ground. It was only when the priest began to approach did he fully focus.

Ezra made his way to Sam and tried to lay a reassuring hand on Sam's shoulder, but the hunter flinched and pulled away before he could touch him.

"Chalice…" Ezra said, even though Sam was sure he didn't hear the young girls name ever. "…It's all over. You should go back to school."

The young woman backed away. When she moved, Sam noticed a glint in her. "Hold on... what…"

"Don't touch me, bucko!"

"I won't hurt you. You're safe now, I swear. But, the thing in your hand…. I hope..."

Her hand jutted out and she now realized she had taken something from her attacker. The memory of the way the strange man had touched her hair inflicted the worse chills and feelings of being violated. She tossed it hard, backed away quickly, stared at Sam for a second, and started to run. "JUST LEAVE ME ALONE."

Sam knelt down. His finger grazed the item, hoping it was really what he thought. When his hand cupped over the band that had just once called Dean's wrist its home, he trembled.

"The Sea1" Ezra screamed almost sounding surprised.

"But what do we do with it now."

"Destroy all that is evil, so all that is good may flourish." The priest answered.

**-x-x-x-x--**

* * *

HOURS LATER AT THE REEDEEMBER CHURCH…

"Sam, let me check your bandage. There's some blood."

In truth, the younger Winchester hadn't noticed the pain in his side until now. The mental pain he felt more than eclipsed any physical pain. Since Dean's deal, Sam felt as if his emotions were being drawn and quartered. Everyone had a plan for him, but no one stopped to ask what he wanted. And ever since the trickster made Dean die before his eyes countless times, he didn't want to do much of anything but kill. And at the moment, he didn't really care about Ezra's sorry.

He just felt dead inside except for one obsession- he had to save Dean. Up until the Rider's possession, every case- every hunt- every day was devoted to that. So little time was left, but he was back at Ezra's church waiting for the man to have some holy epiphany or how to get the Rider back to the seal and Dean back to normal.

"It's fine."

"It's not" It was obvious Ezra wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"I should have noticed it hours ago."

He carefully re-dressed the area, giving Sam a nod of approval. "You didn't bust my careful stitching, but take it easy for now. I am sure that demon will show himself again."

"Where?" Sam asked desperately. "Some bar…. A mall... a school. Who else has to die before your God stops it? Who else! Are we just going to sit here and wait?"

"Do you know where Dean is?" His heart was breaking, seeing Sam like this. But young man had to accept this. He had to understand.

"He has less than a month to live! If I save him now, he'll only die then. And sitting on my ass, watching you gather supplies to build some piece of shit church does nothing for him."

Ezra grew quiet and let Sam explode. He merely stared at the escalating angry man before him.

"What the hell has anyone done for Dean?! He has saved countless lives…. Did the right thing time and again to only get smacked in the face for it. What does your God have for him? Is he going to help break this deal? No... Really... you think! He gave us this mission… Bullshit! So Dean gets more pain and you act like his tour guide to hell. Well don't just stand there! ANSWER ME."

The old man closed his eyes, "Son, why do you do this to yourself?"

"WHAT!!" Sam fumed.

"You have to come back to yourself. If you don't soon, the demons will win. You feel the darkness inside. The coldness growing. You are being pushed and Dean is a part of that. Dean is your weakness."

"He is my brother!"

"But you can't protect him forever. You must find a balance of drive, compassion, and warrior inside. And I'm afraid part of that is accepting the powers the demon gave you long ago. They are there. You deny them. The more you stop your true self the more you will lead yourself to darkness. Two years ago, when Dean killed a demon possessed man to save you, how did you feel?"

"Glad, he took care of me and Dad." Sam didn't even think of why Ezra knew about their hunts.

"But you mourned the lost of that life. Yet, you ended the crossroad demon without a single shred of feelings. Why is that?"

"She was evil!"

"The host?"

"Stop it! You're twisting everything!"

"I'm not, but you are. Embrace the darkness, don't let it lead you. You spared that human girl misery of being a demon pawn, but you still should have mourned her passing. But, I have hope. I saw how you reacted when Dean's possessor killed those people. You still have that compassion within you."

Ezra patted Sam's shoulders. At first Sam man tried to shove him off. He didn't deserve comfort, he'd failed and because of him six people had died. But gradually he stopped struggling.

"You, for some strange reason I cannot understand, blame yourself for the deaths of those people in that bar. Neither Sam nor Dean Winchester control the world, but your role is important."

Ezra stood, grabbing his tools as if he started working on rebuilding his church. "The demons have a plan and if you give into it, you are both as good as dead." The sound of his nail gun interrupted his words as he worked on his new pulpit. "Here, some manual labor may help you work out the demons in your head."

Sam took the nail gun in his hand, slamming a few nails as Ezra measured the next board. "It wasn't you that killed those innocents nor was it Dean. It was Rider. Because you didn't stop him, you seem to think it's your fault. It's not, you didn't plan their deaths. Why a man who considers himself intelligent is unable to grasp this simple fact."

"I should have killed..."

"You're not a killer, but the demons are pulling your strings hard. What you are trying to do is give yourself an excuse for not being who you should be. Have you ever told Dean about the strange nights at Stanford when you thought about all the people you didn't save? It was huge part of why you left. And why do you blame yourself for the ones you could have saved if you stayed with your family? Your choice was not wrong or right. You may pretend to not be torn by your two halfs, but you can't straddle that inner fence forever. You have to meld the two and accept all that you are."

"What if I can't..."

"Allow me to help!" A third voice smarted, just before the Rider latched his demonic hands on Sam's skull. Sam dropped his tool and felt a surge within him. "I can get that pesky compassion out."

"Help us, Lord!" Ezra prayed as he ran towards the intruder. "LEAVE THAT CHILD..."

A sudden movement of his hand sent Ezra flying. Dean continued in the Rider's mission to take Sam's peace and leave only the darkness inside to take over.


	9. Strike

The Rider's face creased into a scornful laugh, calling away Sam's internal sense of peace, intending to leave only anger, frustration, and bloodlust. Sam reeled at first, descending quickly into a scream of fury. His arms pumped in uber alert as he descended into those dark emotions, as he gripped his head.

"Then there was one!" The demon hissed at Ezra, who helplessly fumbled around on the floor. Dean snapped vigorously, growling. "Soon my mission will be brought to fruition. This earth shall fall and be reborn!" He strutted towards the fallen Ezra, moving with light speed to come to rest a foot upon the priest's throat. "Spew your words and rhetoric now!" He twisted the phrase like a dare, knowing Ezra would not be able to response. "It's over. I think I'll let your little pet kill you as I watch."

The Rider gleamed with satisfaction until he felt a sudden, heavy, blinding impact to the back of his skull. His foot shifted off of the preacher's neck, startled by the blow, more than injured. When the demon turned, his reaction was sheer disbelief. "Impossible," he murmured through clenched teeth.

"Not in this life time." Sam volleyed back at the thing possessing his brother. "You may have my peace, but you have something else that belongs to me!"

"You can't attack me!"

"Watch me."

"Impossible."

That was all he had a chance to say as Sam threw another balled-up punch, slamming with all the raw emotions the demon incited. He heard a sickening crack as his fist came in contact with the Dean's jaw. He hesitated for a moment, realizing that was definitely the sound of a breaking bone, which he knew the Rider was already actively healing. A small trickle of blood lingered a thin line of web like blood spittle from Sam's fist to Dean's split lip for several seconds before the liquid link broke, dropping a splatter on the floor.

"Let my brother go!" Sam snapped.

Dean reached up, cracked his jaw in place, and wiped at his lip, seeing a smear of red on his hand. His face hardened and his jaw tightened. Rebounding from the shock of Sam's attack, he jumped into a flying spin, administering an aerodynamic display of kicks until he landed on the ground, graceful as a feather falling.

Sam swung around, giving the Rider a taste of his footwork, ending with his knee crashing into Dean's stomach. He followed by grabbing the demon's leg, twisting.

To keep himself from falling, Dean used the momentum and movement of the attack to flip back, kicking out into Sam's knees. In the process, he freed himself as he gained the advantage. Meanwhile, his fist moved forward, smashing an uppercut to Sam's chin. In a flash, he threw an elbow into the ribs.

Twisting in midair, Sam dropped to the earth like a meteorite, his eyes wide in disbelief. Blood dribbled from several areas on his body. Ignoring the pain, he leapt to his feet, fueled by the primal instincts to survive.

They stood apart like ancient gladiators, sizing each other up for a moment. Taking the first strike, Sam launched himself at Dean. They brawled viciously, but the Rider soon gained the advantage and punched into Sam's already sore rib cage. It had only been a couple seconds when the Rider pulled back a fist to deliver a hard blow.

Sam defended, blocking the strike. The two broke apart briefly before swinging at each other, both expertly blocking the other's attacks for a fleeting number of movements. A new intensity formed in the pit of Sam's stomach. He lunged at the Rider, who ducked with a hint of resignation and threw a right to the abdomen. Sam smacked his forehead into Dean's. They both seemed to ignore any pain as they threw punches and whirled kicks at each other. The Rider became angrier and threw a furious punch at Sam's, which was countered by a jab to demon's ribs. Dean let out a yell, and then took this opportunity to punch his brother's jaw. Immediately, he kicked out, shattering a bone in Sam's rib cage. Sam went sprawling back to the floor, clenching in pain.

"Done little one?"

Sam immediately doubled over, clutching a rib. "Not yet," Sam spat out. This time he felt no remorse. "You..." Sam seemed to be choking on rage with his voice echoing a deadly calm. He was up, and he spoke so distinctly that anyone within ear shot would have snapped to attention. "Come on! Let's finish this!"

It was time to play rough in the battle for life or death. Sam's knuckles were red from both he and Dean. He was covered in bruises and his body ached, but he didn't care. He had more important things to deal with-more anger to unleash. He summoned up all his rage and frustration, committing it to his most powerful attack. Again he charged with his body jumping as his fist rose. Sam managed to get one good hit to the face before Dean rammed a powerful blow to the back of Sam's head, followed by blows to the lower back.

The impacts were with full force, moving Sam back until he was pinned on a wall. Dean punched harder, bashing Sam's head in a battery of furious punches. Sam wobbled, his cranium being knocked repeatedly. Blood spewed from his mouth and nose, momentarily cutting off his air supply. He swallowed hard, tasting the nasty helping of iron tang. When he could breathe again, he saw Dean's arm, dropping down like a guillotine blade.

Again, the demon found himself distracted by Sam's attack. The weakened Ezra, not as experience in battle as the Winchesters, mounted his own offense. The seal jutted out from his fingers, making contact with the middle of Dean's back. Ezra let the seal sizzle like a brand on unsuspecting flesh. Slowly words in Latin flew with such speed that the syllables blurred together. The move is enough to garner the demon's immediate attention. He whirled, delivering a hard swinging punch to the side of the priest's head.

The distraction was enough, as Sam staggered backwards. Still he kept his balance. Without even thinking of the consequences he lashed out and sucker punched Dean in the stomach.

Clutching his gut, the breath was stolen and knocked out of the Rider. He hadn't expected Sam to recover so quickly. The demon stepped to the side, narrowly avoiding Sam's leg as he tried to kick him in a martial arts style. Sam countered again and was suddenly in very close. He didn't even stop to think. He trapped Dean's arm, twisting almost to breaking, pinning him in a painful arm lock. His other arm grasped Dean's belt. It took all the leverage he could muster and all the strength in his muscles to move the Rider. He put his weight into a mighty heave, pushing Dean backwards.

Flipping the demon in a 180, he slammed Dean like a cannonball in the baptismal. Soon Sam was over him, fists connecting with skilled accuracy. After a several barrages of swings, Sam dunked the rider under the water. The demon fought, bucking, gaining ground with each movement.

Suddenly, Sam reached out, finding a new, unlikely weapon. The Rider popped from under the water. Before the demon could recover, Sam reacted. With one arm, he easily grabbed one of Dean's wrists. The aggressor pulled, heaved forward, and slammed the hand down with an open palm upon the wood frame of the pool. Then in the other hand, the nail gun whipped, driving the lever down in the middle of Dean's palm. When the metal shaft ripped through Dean's flesh, small splatter of blood spiked as the huge eighteen penny nail through into the fibers of the wood. Twitching like a decapitated animal, writhing in pain, he felt pure madness engulf him. His hand skewered like a piece of meat.


	10. Baptism

"NOW!" He screamed at Ezra, who was already trying to stumble back in the fray. A blink later, almost lyrical refrains of Latin danced off Sam's tongue. The sound a vast contradiction to the command he just screamed. His mind focused on holding the demon in the pool, controlling the uncontrollable. He struggled to get a good hold on still free arm. As much as he hated to do it again, he prepared himself for driving another spike in the other hand. Dean would hopefully forgive him for any pain, but he knew his brother would sooner die than be used by any demon. For the first time, Sam felt balanced and not pulled in multiple directions internally. He didn't understand why the Rider of War couldn't dominate his mind like the other victims, but he could puzzle that answer later. So with that brief instant, Sam threw himself back into the situation at hand.

He arched the nail gun forward, yet the demon interceded pushing his body forward, simultaneously yanking at the secured hand. A leg bent inward, tucking tightly to the torso before Dean sent it flying towards Sam's arm. The weapon flew from Sam's grip. There was not time to recover it. With both hands he grabbed the rider, driving the demon under the water for second.

Dean's head broke the surface, gasping for air. Jerking and trashing, he continued his escape plan, intending to rip either the nail or the hand. The metal fastener drove clean through his hand and the only means of escape was to make the larger nail head ravage through the palm. If it took all his strength, he would free this hand. A loud, plunging squish resounded amid the splashes as the rider bammed his palm back and forth on the spike.

Sam countered by plunging the demon back in holy water pool, while now screaming an exorcism at the top of his lungs. "Exercitu praelia Domini, sicut pugnasti contra ducem superbiae luciferum, et angelos ejus apostaticos. Et non valuerunt, neque locus inventus est eorum amplius in coelo. Sed projectus est draco ille magnus, serpens antiquus, qui vocatur diabolus et satanas, qui seducit universum orbem. Et projectus est in terram, et angeli ejus cum illo missi sunt. "

Soon Ezra joined him, placing the seal face down on Dean's trapped arm. Tripping, more than jumping in the fight, his movements were sluggish and inexperienced. Hit wits took over where his body would physically fail. Like second nature, his mouth uttered a flawless baptism in Latin. "Si non es baptizatus, ego te baptizo in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti Si igitur vis ad vitam ingredi, serva mandata. Diligis Dominum Deum tuum ex toto corde tuo, et ex tota anima tua, et ex tota mente tua, et proximum tuum sicut teipsum..."

Their voices overlapped, spouting what sounded like a jumble of mumbo jumbo to untrained ears. Each syllable's intent to drive the demonic presence out of Dean. The words merged indistinguishable between the two voices, but the effect was the same. The demon spasmed, fighting for rule of his host body. His energy spiked like a cannon in his frame as he lashed his body against the priest, followed by the same action against Sam. Ezra soared back against the wood frame of the baptismal while Sam didn't even stumble as the demon fought, bobbing back and forth under the water. "En antiquus inimicus et homicida vehementer erectus est. Transfiguratus in angelum lucis, cum tota malignorum spirituum caterva late circuit et invadit terram, ut in ea deleat nomen Dei et Christi ejus"

Returning the seal, Ezra spoke louder in a voice that would hush any unruly child in a Sunday service. "Exi ab ea, immunde spiritus, et da locum Spiritui Sancto Paraclito." The priest made the Sign of the Cross, tracing the pattern above the seal. "Accipe signum Crucis tam in fronte, quam in corde, sume fidem caelestium praeceptorum. Et talis esto moribus, ut templum Dei iam esse possis."

A loud scream reverberated high, shaking the wooden frame of the building. It was followed by a tortured, soft, and beseeching voice repeating the words. "Sam stop... stop."

"DON'T STOP!" Ezra ordered.

"Dean?"

"It's not him! Keep going!"

"Oremus. Preces nostras…"

'Quaesumus, Domine, clementer exaudi."

Dean's skin began to burn from the insides with an excruciating pain building in the center of his rib cage. As time passed, the pressure grew stronger and hotter. Dean thrashed about vainly, beating his free fist against Sam's back and pulling at the nail with his other.

"Et hunc electum tuum crucis Dominicae impressione signatum, perpetua virtute custodi." Sam continued.

"Ut magnitudinis gloriae" Ezra countered.

With the last of his strength, the Rider grasped Sam's shirt. His fingers dug deep, bundling the fabric, using all of his reserve to try to throw Sam off balance. His attempt summarily failed.

"Tuae rudimenta servans, per custodiam mandatorum, ad regenerationis gloriam pervenire mereatur. Per Christum Dominum nostrum."

"Exorcizo te, omnis spiritus immunde, in nomine Dei Patris omnipotentis, et in nomine Iesu Christi Filii eius, Domini et Iudicis nostri, et in virtute Spiritus Sancti, ut discedas ab hoc plasmate Dei" Sam spouted, dunking his captive in the water again.

A strange gurgling rumbled in Dean's throat. He gagged as the entity crammed tight, like a protestor. The creature clawed to the hiding place of his throat, filling and spreading. What little space that remained to provide air, filled with a smidgeon of water. He wasn't sure if the water or the demon would drown him first. Finally, when his head was allowed to surface, he coughed out the liquid followed by something darker, murkier. Black smoke poured from this throat and then scrambled back inside. He yelled in pain as if his head busted wide open. His grip loosened on Sam, but he didn't let go. Then he was plunged down once more. The inflections of Latin banged inside his ears through the liquid.

"Animasque ad aeternae gloriae coronam destinatas furetur, mactet ac perdat in sempiternum interitum. Virus nequitiae suae, tamquam flumen immundissimum, draco maleficus transfundit in homines depravatos mente et corruptos corde; spiritum mendacii, impietatis et blasphemiae; halitumque mortiferum luxuriae, vitiorum omnium et iniquitatum."

Again, Dean resurfaced and dark onyx smoke erupted, thick and carbon hard. He gagged, shaking violently, wanting desperately to get his hands free to rip the presence out him, but Sam restrained his other arm too. "LET ME GO!" Dean screamed, aware this time it was really his voice. Yet, Sam wasn't about to stop. Suddenly the entity flashed red, moving like a stampeded out of him. He had experience pain before, but even calling this pain seemed to diminish the sensation.

More and more fumes hurled out of him, dragging against the tissue inside his throat. Dean thought his scream had worn out and turned to silence by now, but the voice came regardless from somewhere. The smoke kept cramming, scrambling in to hold his position, pressing against Dean's windpipe. Then the internal tug-of-war ceased. He could see it now- a materialization hovering before him. Finally, the stream ended, hanging in the air above the water.

Slowly, the dark vapors turned to an almost crystal like energy, drawing down into the seal, trapping the Rider once again. "Grow in grace from day to day. Through the same Christ our Lord. Amen." Ezra finished as he withdrew the seal from Dean's flesh, leaving a strange pattern cut into his skin.

Dean sank down, slipping into the water now, letting himself drift. He was too tired to fight- too tired to move. It was the worst pain Dean could remember. The world seemed to be lopsided for a moment, but it was Sam pulling him back to the surface. He feebly tried to defend himself, not really sure of if the ordeal was over. Exhausted, he stopped struggling and looked up at Sam, whose stare was strangely deep and seething with emotion.

When it was all over, Sam twisted Dean closer, pulling his trembling brother to rest against the wooden side of the pool. His hands fumbled, checking heart rate, breathing, and pulse. He had cause to worry as the last blows had not had sufficient time to heal, leaving Dean severely battered and beaten. "God, please, no. Let him..."

"Get it.. get it out….get…" He demanded weakly. Dean's red-rimmed, blackened, and swollen eyes darted as if he were anticipating another attack.

"It's gone." Sam reassured.

"Get… get…"

"Easy, son. The demon is gone." Ezra reassured.

"It's really gone." Sam promised.

Mistrust sprang forth, Dean flicking his head towards Ezra. He muttered indistinguishable words, but the meaning seemed abundantly clear. This time both Sam and Ezra seemed to recognize what Dean was thinking.

"He's a friend."

"I'm a friend." Ezra offered at the same moment.

A warm flicker lit in Sam's eyes. For whatever reason, it made Dean end the mumbling. The brothers stared at each other breathing hard. Dean's head rolled a little and he gasped for air as everything hurt when he breathed. He tried to collapse into a ball, but was anchored to the wood base and unable to fully tuck into himself. Dean wobbled and his eyes goggled in his head. For a moment, he stayed upright with great difficulty, but shortly tried to slip back under the water. Sam propped Dean up, jamming his arm under his brother's shoulder to keep him adrift.

His eyes rolled. For an indeterminate amount of time his mind and face was utterly blank. He body was lethargic as if he were filled by cotton and not flesh, blood, and bones. Awareness returned slowly. He tried to grab at random thoughts, but they effortlessly slipped through his grasp, making his head crash with murderous pain. Attempting to raise his hand to rub at the gnawing headache, he rediscovered how trapped he was. Meanwhile, the stinging pain of the move cost him dearly, but it heightened his awareness to some conscious level

All three men remained in the water for a while, not knowing what to say. It was only when Dean grew quiet for too, did Sam begin questioning. "Hey, talk to me! I'd ask if you were alright, but..."

"Dead, all dead. I killed them. I did that.. can't live..."

As if he took some cue that he was invading a private moment, Ezra floundered out of the baptismal font. Then it seemed he was ready to resume his work on his precious church, fiddling with tools during his brother's time of crises. Sam might have minded had he not so relieved to have the rider gone.

Relief appeared to be the one thing Dean couldn't find. Tears fell down his face, he was repeating the same words over and over "My fault, I killed them, it's my fault."

He barely waited for Dean to finish before he countered with a statement. "It wasn't you. Let's get you out of this cold water and you'll feel better soon."

"Sam?" Ezra said suggestively, reappearing at their side.

The younger brother puzzled for a moment, but when he noticed a pair of pliers in the priest's hand he understood. Ezra hadn't left them at all, but was preparing for aftermath.

Ezra knelt beside Dean as Sam pulled him further into his "Hold really still," the priest coaxed.

Sam gently nudged Dean's head to him, keeping the view of the nail spike out of sight. He was sure, Dean felt the agony of the metal, rigid in his palm, but he didn't have to watch this. This was one thing his brother would not have to witness.

The metal claws of the pliers braced around the nail head. With the first pull, Dean flinched, trashing forward. The pliers slipped away and Dean wasn't ready for another attempt. The pain was sickening. Between the two of them they managed to hold Dean stationary long enough to grab the impaled metal for a second attempt.

The screeching sound of the wood not wanting to release its iron spike prisoner groaned so loudly at first, but when the nail began to move, it was overshadowed by the scream from Dean. He looked like he was about to pass out. He writhed in pain. When his hand freed, he tucked it closing, hiding it like Sam and Ezra might hurt him more. His voice grumbled and ragged as he screamed.

* * *

The strange sensation of the extremely supple white sweater on his cold skin compared to the throb from the hole in his hand more than affirmed that he was still alive, if only barely. The ripples of the malleable, downy threads hugged warmth too him. It was definitely not Dean Winchester's style, but he wasn't going to grip about that point. Stretching his legs out, he let them drape over the end of the wooden pew.

"Take these!" Sam ordered, shoving three large pills near Dean's view without any attention of waiting for his brother to agree. Painstakingly he fed them to his brother one by one down a scratchy throat. Each dose followed by the ease of a cold drink of water. Sam guided both medication and hydration, not letting Dean lift a finger.

When Sam's turn at nurse was finished, Dean sank deeper in Ezra's old sweater, obviously too large.

Again, as if he knew thoughts, Ezra answered. "You'd be surprised how cold it gets out here and beggars are not choosers... or so I've heard. " As he spoke, a pair of tweezers moved mangled flesh around Dean's hand, cleaning any stray wood splinters from the palm. When he was finished with that, he passed the bandaging duties to Sam and found the next gash that needed attention.

"Still think we should get you to the hospital!" Sam claimed.

"No."

"We could tell them you got jumped."

"And then you will explain how you got beat up too?"

"We got jumped."

"No…"

"Sam, when you finish with the gaze, you may want to put the ace bandage around it to keep it immobile." He stated giving Sam a look to let the idea drop, at least for now.

A gush of lethargic air hissed from Dean's mouth. Even the routine care provided by Sam and his new friend was too much at the moment. How could he explain he didn't want to see people, when he couldn't understand the feeling at all himself? He just wanted to sink into nothing and be nothing for as long as he could.

Lowly, the priest hummed quietly around him, at the pitch that Dean found most soothing and strangely familiar. He permitted them to finish the overly attentive medical attention, releasing his muscles without any will. His eyes glassed over like he had been sedated. And he might have been. He didn't really question the pills Sam just fed him like candy. His mind was elsewhere anyway.

"Dean?"

"Go on. The pain isn't bad." His mind so distant he didn't realized how quiet he had grown. Even the priest had walked away, probably thinking it was awkward to be caught in this drama. "Go on…stitc..."

"Were done now. Think you can...want to talk?"

"No."

"I just..."

"I beat the hell out of you...get patched up yourself..." That should appease his little brother, Dean thought.

"The rider beat me..."

"Same thing."

"Not even close." Sam affirmed.

"I just want to be alone for a while." Everything in him was blank, still processing guilt and responsibility of his and the Rider's actions.

"Dean?"

"Please."

Sam sighed, stood, turned away, and joined Ezra on the far side of the church.

"He's not.."

"He will be.." Ezra reassured.

"I don't understand. I was so angry I could have killed the universe when the Rider touched me and all it did was make me attack him. Dean has to think I hate him so much that I.."

"Tell me something. What brings you peace in this world?"

"Nothing… nothing at all. It's just a big mess."

Really?" He said knowingly. "So everything in your life is a fiery ball of tragedy?"

"A hell of a lot of it."

"And Dean? What about him?"

"Dean…he keeps me from losing my mind."

"Do you not find peace knowing he is there to share your pain, fears, and hopes. Who do you think of when..."

"..shit hits the fan."

"Precisely. You have no peace to retreat to except Dean. So in essence the Rider took your peace the night he possessed Dean. You can't steal something twice. You'll be okay, Sam."

"This deal… I have to stop it."

"Don't you think the demons know how to push your buttons? This deal…they are going to use it to get you to break. You have to find peace with and without Dean. If you don't, that will be your greatest worry."

"I'm not worried about me. He's so….so.."

"…lost. Has he not been lost before?"

"It's different… so distant….like he's in pieces."

"Pieces are often more beautiful than the eyes can perceive. Only then can you really see what it's made of. A clay pot is so sturdy and fragile. God calls us clay pots. We try to fulfill His purposes but we get cracked and broken. If you are broken in your life because of choices you made, don't stay in pieces. God will forgive you, pick you up, and mend you."

"What happens when pieces are destroyed to dust."

"New piece emerge...a mosaic rebuilt with new flavors."

"What if I can't save him… I fail him time and time again. What do I have to do to…"

"I don't have that answer, dear boy, but I know one thing. Have you prayed hard each night for God to please save Dean... Let me save Dean."

"Every day, morning…hell even in the car when I stop for gas!"

"Have you ever prayed to give Dean what he needs?"

"He wants to live too."

"Want… that is different than need. Often we ask for things that we think will make us happy, but life is full or pain and lost. Death is a part of living. You cannot delay it forever. Often the adversity of a situation seems unbearable, but it prepares you to stand through something far more difficult."

"But he did it to save me."

"Did that deal spare you pain?"

"It's killing me. I'm alive but it's…"

"Ask God for help and let him guide you to his plans, let him fix the cracks."

"I can't lose him."

"You never really will. Remember who taught you about life. He shaped part of who you are and that will never go away, if you don't let it. Be the man he taught you to be. The one he admires."

"I look up to him, not him to me…"

"He does. He's always been proud of you, even when you disagree. Those things live on forever."

"That's a poor reconciliation to having my brother."

"I wish I had all the answers, but for right now, I think you just need to be there for him. He needs time to compartmentalize what's happened and build walls around it. He needs your reassurance to do that."

"He wants to be alone...he's…"

"Want….is…" Ezra smiled.

"entirely different than need." Sam finished. He walked back to his brother, sat down silently on the floor, not saying a word or trying to pry. He glance at Dean's closed eyes, hoping sleep had taken hold, but his brother blinked, staring back.

For a long moment, Dean waited for some lecture to start, but Sam didn't make a peep. Somehow Sam's presence did help him as much as he didn't think he deserved any comfort at the moment. With a deep breath, his mind and body started to relax.

Sam afforded a slight smile for Dean's benefit. Deep inside, Sam was already mourning Dean's passing while formulating a million ideas to save him. In his head he prayed. "God, I know I want to save him, but I need to save him. I don' know if I can do this without him. If I learned anything, he keeps me going- reminds me why I do this. With his help, it's not a scorecard of how many demons or things we can kill. It's about who we save. I can't understand why you would let this happen to him. Please... just please...Whatever you need us to do... go through to do this job...I'll do it.. do his share for him... just... just... give him a life he deserves."

Ezra smiled briefly and then turned his attention to sanding some railing. Silently, he whispered. "Lord, I know the road is going to be more painful for those young men. Lead them as you will to be whole and reborn. May they have enough to strength- fill their needs to accomplish the battle ahead."

**_X--THE END--X_**


End file.
